


Don't Give Me Up

by ofcapesandshields



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, If I Stay AU, M/M, Slight canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofcapesandshields/pseuds/ofcapesandshields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death in itself was a really weird concept. Rationally, Stiles knew that everyone died at some point in their lives. Moms get an incurable disease and are taken away from their children and husbands too soon. A beautiful strong blonde werewolf is taken by alphas and killed in a way that was so much less than she deserved. </p><p>People die in vain, in horrible brutal ways, but die they do. Stiles just never assumed he’d be one of them at seventeen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take These Broken Wings

Death in itself was a really weird concept. Rationally, Stiles knew that everyone died at some point in their lives. Married couples grow old and gray until one day someone inevitably dies before the other. Moms get an incurable disease and are taken away from their children and husbands too soon. A beautiful strong blonde werewolf is taken by alphas and killed in a way that was so much less than she deserved. 

People die in vain, in horrible _brutal __ways, but die they do. Stiles just never assumed he’d be one of them at seventeen._

______________________________________________

Stiles could still remember that exact moment where he looked at Derek and just went 

_oh, so that’s what I’ve been missing. ___

Of course he’d stared at Derek before, he’d have to be blind to not want to just stare at his Alpha all day. With his built chest, pure lean muscle and all that stubble…yeah, Stiles urged anyone to try to not stare and see how that worked out for them.

It had started out simple, he’d accidentally caught a peak of Derek’s license after the Alpha had instructed him to pull a twenty from his wallet while he went to answer the door for the pizza guy. It was pack movie night, everyone in various states of comfort around the huge TV in the living room of the loft. 

The pairings were usual. Scott and Allison curled around each other on the floor and whispering things sweet enough to give cavities throughout the film. Lydia and Jackson sharing an armchair while somehow managing to make it look completely comfortable. Boyd in the other free armchair, arms wrapped around his knees loosely, not saying much. But then again he rarely did since Erica.

Which left Stiles, Isaac and Derek sharing the oversized sofa against the wall. Isaac and Stiles usually wrestling playfully until they somehow ended up in a comfortable but contorted position of Stiles sitting on Isaac’s stomach while Isaac grumbled about how fat Stiles was for how thin he looked. Derek usually looked on in silent amusement from the end of the couch.

At some point the doorbell had rung, signaling the pizza arriving. And as Stiles had been grabbing the money Derek had asked for, he glanced and then did a double take when he realized that Derek’s birthday was in a _week,_ and the Alpha hadn’t told any of them, and probably wasn’t planning on it anytime soon. Determination in his mind now, Stiles simply took him the money and gave Derek an innocent smile, one that had the man raising an eyebrow in curiosity and simply brushing it off as Stiles being just Stiles.

Stiles spent the next few days wracking his brain for the perfect give for Derek. Over the past year he now knew enough that calling attention to this day was probably exactly what Derek didn’t want. So he’d just have to get him a super fucking awesome present to make up for it. The issue being what do you get the guy who has nothing and everything all at once? 

The solution came to him one afternoon as he sat in Derek’s loft, the werewolf off in another room talking to Peter about something. Probably instructing the older wolf to be way less creepy if Stiles was lucky. As he went to walk towards the kitchen, he paused in the hallway where the pictures he’d walked by a million times seemed to suddenly make sense to him.

Stiles had never really taken time to study the photos in varying frame sizes, always kind of assuming they’d come with the apartment as a filler, a way to make an enormous stone and steel loft feel like a home.

But as he stared at them now, he realized that someone, no. Derek, had taken all of these images at some point, and they were _good._ Skylines of the city, a few snapshots of Laura in various degrees of moods, one where the laughter seemed to pour out of every inch of her, another where a grumpy oh-so-familiar grumpy pout was on her lips as she sat across from the photographer on a couch of some sort. Derek had hobbies, Derek had a _talent_ other than leading a pack of unruly teenagers. And suddenly, Stiles knew exactly what to do.

A day later and a surprisingly helpful talk with Peter, Stiles was opening the loft door, knowing Derek was the only one home. The man in question walked down the spiral staircase, curiosity written all over his face having not expected any of the pack today. 

Before he could speak, Stiles brought out a pale blue wrapped package from behind his back, mumbling out a soft “Happy Birthday, sourwolf,” a small and secretive smile on his lips.

Derek paused in shock, clearly wondering how Stiles had known. 

“How did you… my wallet.” Derek spoke, realization in his voice as he stared down at the box with a look in his eyes Stiles couldn’t pin down. But he sat on the sofa all the same, unwrapping the box with surprising care, until it was open and the camera set stared back at him.

Stiles began to ramble; worried he didn’t like the present. “Dude, I’m really sorry because I get that this is like extreme levels of meddling even for me, it’s just that no one deserves to go without some type of birthday gift, ever. Especially you, Derek. You’ve done so much for all of us even though we’ve never asked you too. You put the pack and us first, and I just thought it was time someone else put you first.

And a few days ago I saw the pictures on the wall and realized that you must have been the one to take them, but you’ve never mentioned photography before and then I talked to Peter and he explained it all to me. How it was something L-laura introduced you to. Something you loved together. And I know how shitty it is that she’s gone Derek, I know. But I also know she would have kicked your ass for giving up something you so clearly excelled at. So I mentioned it to Peter and he helped me find the right one you used to have and I found all these other accessories the guy said you would need and fuck you probably hate this and me and shit I am so sorr-“

Stiles cut off abruptly, finally having gained the courage to glance up and see the...not furious face of his alpha that he’d been anticipating. Derek was smiling. No, Derek was beaming. A pleased grin on his lips and pure happiness and joy on his face as he stared down at the parcel and then back at Stiles. 

There had been very few times where he’d seen Derek truly happy and even then never like this. It hit him like a punch to the gut, everything clicking into place as his mixed and cluttered emotions toward his alpha finally made complete and utter sense. 

“Stiles I could have never… _thank you.”_ The voice was quiet, but filled with so much choked emotion it took everything in him to not throw himself at the wolf.

 

_Oh, so that’s what I’ve been missing. ___

_________________________________________________

Death came like an enemy, it arrived like an old friend. But when it came for Stiles. No one could be prepared for what happened next.

He and his dad had been on the road for maybe five minutes. It was a cold day in February in Beacon Hills, and his father had taken the weekend off so he and Stiles could drive to Stanford one more time before acceptance letters rolled in. Stiles wanted –no, needed to get in. It was his dream school. 

The place where his mother had met his mother while he’d been in the police academy nearby. The place they’d been visiting for as long as Stiles could remember. Memories of being in the backseat listening to his parents sing along to Beatles songs in the front seat from the early age of four.

So it had been tradition, and as the Sheriff drove down a winding path that lead to the highway, that the slow croon of “Blackbird” poured through the speakers. Stiles sang along softly, so softly that his Dad’s muffled “Shit” shook him to the core. He had maybe a split second to look to see a semi truck coming head on, having hydroplaned over from its lane. And then there was blackness.

__________________________________________________________

Waking up was like having ice water poured over his body. Stiles shot up in an instant, realizing the water had indeed been real. A steady pour of rain was now falling, which is why it took him so long to realize the dark mass on the floor was diluted blood. Stumbling to his feet, he staggered forward a few feet, thankful to already hear sirens in the distance. Someone must have heard the crash.

When he found his dad among the wreckage, Stiles let out a loud sob while simultaneously trying not to heave. His dad…the ambulance would be too late. The sheriff’s neck was bent at an unreal angle, his chest split open as blood now sluggishly poured from it. 

“No…No! D-dad, please God, no..Dad! _Dad….”_ The whisper was soft, broken in a way he had never heard from anyone, let alone himself. 

_Killed on impact. __The thought struck him with a sense of deep, guttural sorrow and yet somehow relief, that hopefully his father hadn’t suffered._

Unable to look any longer, he turned back around. And that is when Stiles fell to his knees, one look having him dry heaving onto the pavement as he tried to let himself breathe to no avail.

Because ten feet from where he was standing? Was his own body. 

Stiles was dead. Or damn near close to it. 

As the sirens grew exponentially louder, he realized the ambulance had arrived. Screeching onto the scene and medics popping out like an organized army. _Too late…you’re all too late._

He watched detachedly as they draped a blanket over the sheriff, the medic instantly having recognized him as a soft cry broke from her mouth. The others began to work furiously on Stiles, bringing over the stretcher and lifting him with an ease he didn’t know people could possess. 

They began CPR immediately, loading him back into the van and right before the doors closed he slipped in as well, a hand being placed on the back window as they drove away from his father, his entire family now reduced to nothing. This was going to kill them all, his pack. It was going to destroy Scott.

It was with an empty cough he realized that this was the end of the Stilinski family. It somehow felt right. Going together even in the end. His ears registered a final noise in the silence, and Stiles would have laughed if he could.

Because in the midst of the wreckage his jeep still managed to keep the radio working. It couldn’t protect his dad, but it could keep the Beatles blasting through the stagnant air around them.

_“All your life…you were only waiting for this moment to be free…” ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is just chapter one, Stiles and Derek have a long way to go with their story I promise! But feedback would be amazing, because this style of writing (as well as writing Sterek) is all new to me. Love and hugs, xx. -1SoS
> 
> Also here's some shameless self promotion, but I started a side blog specifically for my writing. Feel free to follow and let me meet all you beautiful souls. (And yes i'm now singing J-Mac in my head.)
> 
> 1shadeofsarcasm.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles could safely say he spent a good amount of time in Beacon Hills Memorial hospital. Between his mom, visiting Melissa with Scott when he brought her dinner, and the various times pack members ended up injured, (mostly pack humans) the place was a third home. In the most morbid way a home could exist.

Now he followed the people rushing through the ER entrance with his gurney at a sluggish pace, not sure as if he should witness what came next. He watched with hands in his pockets as they pushed him into an elevator that would take him to the nearest surgical O.R.

He slid down to the floor, cradling his head in his hands as the past hour slid through his mind. But the silence wasn’t something he could stand right now. No, silence made him think of the accident. Of his _father…_ Yeah, fuck silence.

One elevator ride later found him inside a room where he was currently being prepped to be operated on. A belated thought of his emergency contact came to the forefront of his mind as a nurse questioned whom to call. A silence fell over the room as the lead surgeon had to explain the fate that had become of the Sheriff. 

It was in that silence that a noise outside became louder, until the door was slammed opened and in ran Melissa McCall. Hair ruffled and eyes watering, she took in the sight before her with surprising grace, her only sound a punched out oh from her lips, more out of solemn acceptance than anything else. 

_“Nurse McCall you cannot be in on this operation and you _know-“__

__“Please, David. He…he’s basically my son. I just need to hold his hand. He has to know someone’s here. I won’t interfere I…I promised his mother.” The statement was gentle, almost desperate in its vulnerability. “David’s” eyes seemed to soften, and with a put out sigh he nodded._ _

__Melissa gripped his hand tightly, her other pushing through his overgrown hair sweetly, soothingly. Her grip tightened imperceptibly as they began to rattle off his injuries. (Not that Stiles felt any of it, he noted with a sense of dread)_ _

__“Patient’s name is ‘Stiles’ Stilinski, age 17. Found on scene of crash with no other survivors. Suffered three cracked ribs, severe concussion, with the possibility of brain swelling, hairline fracture on his collarbone as well as a severe sever along his ribcage which we believe may also have some internal bleeding. Patient will be treated for the most severe injuries sustained and if manages to not expire within the next seventy-two hours further procedures will be taken for the more minor injuries.”_ _

__

__Stiles blanched. He knew nurses had to say it all in the open. But to hear just how close to death he was, how his life was in the hands of a few people; scared the shit out of him._ _

__Melissa leaned in, her lips close to his ear as she murmured the comforts he needed to hear more than anything. “Stiles, baby…this is all up to you. These people here love you and while they’ll do they’re absolute best, it’s up to you too, kid. You have to want to stay. I know…I know it won’t be easy but kid- Y-you still have us here. _You still have a family.”___

____________________________________________________ _ _

___“Derek I swear to god if you take one more picture I’ll-“_ _ _

___“You’ll what, Stiles? Waggle your finger at me to death? I’m so threatened, truly. Plus this was your idea to give me my gift. I get to use it how I please, idiot.” Derek snarked, a smirk on his lips as he took one, two, three rapid fire shots of the grumpy look on Stiles’ face._ _ _

___Stiles groaned, rolling over on the couch before belatedly realizing he’d already been on the edge and suddenly found his face meeting plush carpet rather aggressively. Hearing chuckles behind him, he let his face remain in the floor, a solitary finger rising into the air, only causing the chuckles to increase more._ _ _

___It had been a few weeks since Stiles had given Derek the camera, and ever since he’d been taking pictures of everything. From their pack mates to managing to find some places in BH Stiles hadn’t even known existed, hundreds of images had come to fruition at the hands of their alpha. And while the rest of the pack loved to be models, (Lydia in particular preened when it was pointed in her direction as well as Isaac) Stiles was still very much camera shy. Which of course meant that Derek took a picture of him whenever he had the opportunity. Which was often._ _ _

___“Go take pictures of your puppy pack, you mongrel.” He moaned out, rolling over and rubbing his nose where it was sure to at least bruise. A hand shot into his peripheral, Derek’s fingers finding his nose and leaching the small aching that had been about to pound out a steady rhythm of throbbing._ _ _

___Sighing in relief, Stiles pushed into the pressure, opening his eyes to see Derek looming over him, an amused smirk on his lips once more. His lips were moving and it took Stiles longer than it should have for him to realize Derek was actually speaking to him._ _ _

___“Huh?”_ _ _

___“Our pack, Stiles.”_ _ _

___“Again, huh?”_ _ _

___Derek huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes. “You keep saying _your pack.__ Stop excluding yourself. You’re just as important as the rest of them. Our pack. I hate when you belittle yourself like that when you’re so important to m-to us.”_ _

____Stiles felt his cheeks redden, but nodded nonetheless. “I-I’m sorry Der. Really. It’s just habit I guess.” Shrugging, he sat up and froze when Derek’s hand met the back of his neck._ _ _ _

____“It’s fine, just no more, okay? You…we’re a family Stiles. Dysfunctional as any other yes, but a family all the same. You’re always going to have us. Have me.”_ _ _ _

____And with that he was lifted up like a freaking child, arms under his armpits and tugging until he was once again back on the couch. He didn’t even have time to lose the shocked expression off his lips before he heard the click of the camera once more._ _ _ _

_____“Derek!”__ _ _ _

__________________________________________________________________ _ _ _ _

_____The recovery rooms at BHMH all looked the same. White, sterile, and all smelled like antiseptic and pine sol. So Stiles instead left his body in the bed, choosing to walk to the waiting room where Melissa sat, leg shaking as she seemed to be waiting for something. Or even more likely, someone._ _ _ _ _

_____Stiles would like to say he didn’t cry when Scott showed up, but the second his best friend came tumbling through those doors what seemed like centuries later, they fell like a fucking waterfall._ _ _ _ _

_____Scott looked afraid. No, Scott looked terrified. He was stumbling over his words and frantic and Stiles would have been seriously worried about a possible asthma attack if not for the fact he knew Scott was a werewolf now._ _ _ _ _

_____It was only when Melissa had her son in her arms that he silenced, eyes widening at the look on her face. “M-mom…no. He’s fine, right? It’s Stiles. He’s _always__ fine.”_ _ _ _

______Melissa looked sympathetic then, pulling him towards the chairs._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It… It doesn’t look good honey. He has so many injuries. They did the very best they could but… they can’t operate again until they’re positive he’ll make it past seventy-two hours. You sh- you should go see him. Talk to him. He needs you more than ever._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles swore that in that moment he truly saw Scott grow up into the man everyone knew he’d be one day. His face crumpled, a sob escaping as he hugged his mom tightly, broken litanies of Stiles’ name slipping past his lips. And yet in what seemed like moments, the tears ceased. A grim determination was set in his eyes when he pulled away from his mom’s arms._ _ _ _ _ _

______He glanced around the room, down the hall where he could surely hear Stiles’ heartbeat, slow and unsteady. And with that, he turned and ran from the building with a grace he never knew his best friend could possess._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Scott! Wait where are you….going.” Melissa trailed off desperately, knowing her son was long gone. To the nurses a few feet away, it probably looked like Scott had ran, unable to take the emotion of the ordeal._ _ _ _ _ _

______But Stiles knew the truth. Deep in his soul he could feel it. No, Scott hadn’t run from the problem. He’d run towards the only solution he could think of._ _ _ _ _ _

______Scott had run to the pack. Scott had run to _Derek.___ _ _ _ _

_____________________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Melissa…. I…I need you….to promise me.” Claudia Stilinski spoke, words broken up as she tried to speak through the oxygen mask that was now a constant on the frail woman’s face._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______The doctor had told her and John the day before that they didn’t expect her to make it another week. It was time to say final goodbyes. They hadn’t told Stiles yet, the eight year old currently curled up fast asleep in the chair across the room, homework long forgotten on the table next to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______John had gone to get some dinner for he and Stiles, and Claudia had taken the moment to page Melissa in. One look at the woman and Melissa had already begun to shake her head and protest._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Claudia, no. You can fight this. Please, Claud. He needs you. John needs you. We all need you to stay,” She pleaded softly, as if enough prayers could somehow fend off the inevitable._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“No, Melissa….we both know my time here is almost…almost up..time for me to be..be the angel John has always called me.” Was the reply, the woman’s eyes watering as she spoke._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______“But I need you to promise…to swear to me. Stiles needs a mom…he’s going to be so broken, Mel. He’s going to need you and Scott more than ever…..They both will. Hug them, kiss Stiles forehead and tell him mommy will always love him…. to the moon and back. Just…….promise me you’ll watch over him, protect him. Make sure his life is as long and as love filled as that little boy deserves. Because he deserves the world, Mel.” She finished, taking a staggering breathful of oxygen after her small speech was through,_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Melissa felt like screaming at the injustice of it all. That little boy and his family deserved so much more than what they were getting. But all she could do was shakily nod and let the tears fall. They cried together, neither of them knowing it would be the last time._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Stiles would awaken later to a sobbing John and a flat lining Claudia. And nothing was ever going to be the same._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______So now Melissa sat diligently by that boy’s bed. That boy was more of a man now, but in her eyes he was still that wide eyed boy asking when his momma was waking up. So she sat, waited and kept a steady stream of words letting that boy know she had a promise to keep and he better as hell not make her break that._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Looking to the ceiling, she sighed shakily. “I’m doing my best Claudia. You and John are together now, but I sure as hell will fight with my all to make sure Stiles stays down here with me for a hell of a lot longer. I won’t let you down.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______Stiles left the room after that, feeling guilty as thoughts of being reunited with his parents swam through his brain._ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, Chapter two! Three won't be posted for a day or two, but will be up before sunday. Hope you all enjoy! And once more, here's my shameless self promo. (love me anyways)
> 
> 1shadeofsarcasm.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'm also aware I don't have a beta, and while I do my absolute best I probably miss a few mistakes here and there. If you notice them...maybe tell me? Or if anyone has beta suggestions or recs, i'd love you for eternity. 
> 
> Till next time!


	3. I've seen Fire and I've seen Rain.

Sometimes he thought of his life like those little flipbooks that make up a larger picture when used the right way, but otherwise remain just small little fragments. Because isn’t that what life was? Small moments of living in pure joy, misery, adolescence, until someday it created the bigger picture.

A small fragment of Stiles life was the rain. Living in California, even the northern area, meant rain was far and between. Winters were cold but dry, only the occasional weeks of down pour in spring. But Claudia had adored the rain. She used to tell him that it was the angels truly crying, tears of happiness and pure sadness pouring over until heaven couldn’t contain them anymore. They’d fall down to earth and let people dance in them, let them find joy in a small, tiny blessing.

He could remember being four years old and his mom’s face lighting up as the sky began to cry. She’d bundle him up in layers that would soak through in seconds and then they’d be outside, singing songs and spinning around until all Stiles could see was a haze of his backyard and his mom, radiant through it all. The days after usually meant John doting over a sick duo, but a small price to pay in the long run.

After she’d passed, Stiles would hide from the rain. Hoodies became obligatory on cloudy days, and he’d avoid glancing up at the sky until he was indoors once more. He’d mentioned it offhandedly to Derek a few months into their relationship, late one night as they lay together on his overly large bed in the loft. Derek hadn’t faltered from stroking down Stiles’ back, but his voice had a quiet tone to it as he questioned his reasoning.

“Why?”

“Why, what?” Stiles had asked, having been cut off mid ramble about stupid falling precipitation.

“Why hate the rain so much?” Derek replied calmly.

“I…” trailing off, Stiles had thought about lying, making up a reason. He’d done it a thousand times. But this was Derek. Lying wasn’t a thing he wanted to do.

“I…my mom. She adored the rain. A lot of my childhood was spent dancing through it with her. It…it hurts too much sometimes. I hate getting wet now. Haven’t been caught in a downpour since I was eleven.” 

Derek was silent then, contemplative for a few moments before leaning down, kissing his forehead with a soft muttered, “Thank you for telling me.”

And Stiles had assumed that would be the end of it.

He should’ve known otherwise, he supposed, looking back.

Two nights later had found him in the loft, waiting for Derek to come back from the Thai food place down the street. He was curled up on the window seat, reading a book for English that actually interested him for once. The rain was still going strong, but Stiles never glanced out once. He merely rested his head against the cool glass, allowing the sound from the downpour to be his only consolation. He felt himself being drawn to the view though, and felt himself get lost in the steady stream of rain, almost hypnotizing in the slight ache it brought.

He was so deep into his thoughts, that he missed the click of the door and the rustle of bags until a warm hand was on his shoulder. He startled, gazing up to see Derek there before him. He was confused at the concerned look his Alpha was wearing, until he registered the tears on his cheeks. 

“I..I…what?” He asked, more to himself than Derek as he tried to comprehend why he was crying. But Derek only shook his head, helping Stiles stand. Assuming they were heading towards the food Stiles had followed, only to be more confused as Derek lead him down the stairs and out of the apartment. It was only when Derek opened the door to the building did it all make sense.

The fight he should have put up drained out of him. With a look of resignation, soon enough he was in the middle of the parking lot. Derek stood across from him, a myriad of emotions on his face. But Stiles paused, registering all at once the chill of water, the drops slamming into his skin and he just smiled. No, he fucking beamed.

Sure, it hurt like hell, and tears mixed with the rain at a steady rate as years of memories crashed over him. But there was also laughter, joy at meeting an old friend once more. Stiles was a snotty, tear filled sobbing mess but there was a smile on his lips, as for once it poured out just as heavily as the rain surrounding them. 

Derek looked relieved, content even as he tugged Stiles close. Hugging him to his chest, the Alpha looked down shyly almost, before whispering a sentence against Stiles’ lips.

“I know how much this, She, meant to you. You deserved to get a piece of her back. She loved you so much, Stiles. And its easy to see why. Loving you is so easy, so effortless, like breathing. You help me breathe. So this…was the least I could do.”

And in that moment Stiles had never loved a single person more.

__________________________________________

 

Derek always seemed to find ways to cause a scene.

But even Stiles couldn’t fault him this one. He’d held his breath as Derek had burst through the doors, Lydia and Isaac hot on his heels. He’d looked frantic, panicked until he got close enough to register Stiles’ heartbeat, even from half a hospital away. At the sound, he had sagged considerably, but still marched forward with purpose. He needed to physically see him, make sure he was alive with his own two eyes.

Of course, life had other ideas.

_________________________________________

Derek: 

“What do you fucking mean I can’t see him?!?”

“I’m sorry Mr. ….Hale? But it’s immediate family only at this time, and I’m afraid I can’t permit you inside.”

“Family only? You’ve got to be fucking KIDDING ME! His father, the Sheriff, is D-DEAD. He has no immediate family left! I- I’m his family, his p- we’re his family! Let me see him right now or so help me GOD-” He screamed, looking every bit as if he was about to wolf out on the poor attending nurse.

Derek breathed in sharply, as if to start in once more on her, when a steady hand met his shoulder. He turned, Scott standing behind him with a defeated look on his face. Snarling, he shrugged it off, turning around, he stalked back off the way he’d come in, ignoring the cries of Lydia and Isaac behind him.

How could they not let him in? He felt like tearing apart this entire hospital until he found Stiles, could see him, touch him, anything. Slamming open the first door he reached, he realized belatedly it was the church, pews of rich mahogany lining the floor and leading up the altar where a beautiful stained glass window faced the outer gardens. 

Derek surged forward, collapsing before the altar as the fight drained from his being. Claws digging into his jeans, he tried to roar out his anger but all that seemed to come out was a long, keening moan. The tears came then, faster and more aggressive than he knew he was capable of. He was shaking apart at the seams, being held together and anchored to the floor solely by the reality of his claws in the flesh of his thighs. The pain made it real. All so very real. 

 

He sobbed for Stiles, for the Sherriff, for himself. The fact that John wouldn’t see Stiles graduate, or be married, or be a grandpa. He sobbed for the life Stiles would be coming back too, if he chose to come back at all. Derek sobbed for the unimaginable world without Stiles in it. It was a reality he refused to face. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry in years, not since his family, since Laura- and now it seemed it would never stop.

It was only when he felt someone kneel next to him that he turned to see Lydia. Small and delicate, she looked like a china doll that could be shattered with one slight movement. Even tear stained and terrified, she was radiant. There was strength in her eyes that Derek didn’t possess. And it that very second he realized why Stiles had loved her for so long. So much power and courage held in such a small package. Like a kitten trying to be a lion. But Lydia never failed, and now was no different.

“I talked to Melissa. The papers in John’s will are being read. They…they have no other family. Melissa now has custody; she’s the family now. Which means under her orders, so are we. Now let’s go see our boy, alright?” 

Her voice left no room for arguments, soft but stern. So he rose, shakily, and let her take his arm and steer him down the hallway. Door after door opening and closing until suddenly they’d arrived. 

“I’m going down the hall for coffee. I know you need…you should do this on your own. Tell him I’ll see him in a bit.” She spoke gently, eyes moist as she walked backwards before quickly making her way down the hall. Even the great Lydia had a breaking point, and taking one look at Stiles he could see why she’d left.

Stiles was never still. Even in moments where he seemed to be in a locked position, if you watched closely enough you realized it was false. He could be reading and still fidget imperceptibly, or scratch his hair or even jiggle his leg every few moments. It was a fact Derek used to find annoying. But then had found it endearing, and moments when Stiles wasn’t around just felt too still, too unnervingly quiet.

Now on a bed and hooked up to seven different machines, Stiles was absolutely still. No twitches, no fingers jerking or leg bouncing or even amber eyes flashing around the room. No, Stiles was eerily stiff. Eyes shut, skin bruised into a mottled purple that physically hurt Derek to look at too long. 

Staggering forward, he sagged into the chair next to the bed. He tried to zone in on everything at once, from the injuries to the machines to just plain Stiles, but it all was too much. Stiles was almost unrecognizable. The truck had done enough damage, apparently. It was nauseating, the boy in front of him the love of his life and yet not the same person all in one. 

Feeling his breath stutter, he zeroed in on one thing at a time, his shaking hands finding Stiles’ stroking down the soft skin repeatedly. He cleared his throat, hating how shattered and scratchy his voice sounded.

“I..I’d like to think you can hear me. Because if you can’t speak, it must mean you can listen because even the universe knows better than to try and deafen you completely. Stiles…you have to try, okay? I know coming back to all this seems unimaginable, but I need you. We all do. Living in a world without you-“ He had to pause, swallow harshly as tears threatened to fall.

“You still have us, have me. You always have, baby. I know I don’t say it enough, you’ve always been better at words than me. Just…please, Stiles. Don’t give us up. Don’t give me up. Because if you leave…I can’t lose someone else in this lifetime. My family…you’re my family now. And I swear if you come back I will do everything in my power to make sure you smile every day of the rest of our goddamn lives just don’t make me break that promise okay? Because you? You’re my everything…my anchor, my soul mate, my MATE. You keep me together. Just don’t let go. I’m begging you to fight for me...for us. “ 

The tears had returned, but this time a slow stream of hurt down his cheeks as he rested his head on the side of the bed, unable to stare at Stiles for fear of completely loosing it. So he breathed, in an out until everything around them became a hum.

____________________________________________

Stiles cried silently, hand on Derek’s shoulder even though he knew he wouldn’t feel it. He wanted it more than anything. To be back in his body, to open his eyes and tell him he was there, that he’d never leave him. He’d had to watch over it all, Derek losing it in the chapel, Lydia being the rock they all needed, the unseen moment of Isaac in the waiting room, litanies of constant prayer leaving his lips as he shook all over.

But the feeling in his gut was screaming out that it wasn’t time, that it was a choice that he didn’t yet have the power to make. So Stiles had to sit and watch as his mate broke down, walls of fear and pain surrounding them both until it seemed suffocating. He’d been foolish to think Derek would be okay, that they all would. But what if it was all too late? What if HE was too late?

Stiles learned that dying was easy. It’s the living that was hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This....this was a toughie. Still unsure of the result. It drained me in the best possible ways. Hope it measures up to the first two.  
> As always, thank you for the lovely reviews. The fact alone that people are actually reading and enjoying (and crying) shocked me to no end. I love you all, and this is for you.
> 
> To end as always, shameless promotion.  
> 1shadeofsarcasm.tumblr.com/
> 
> See you all in a few days. xx


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